


5 Times Harry Winks Kissed Someone He Liked, and One Time They Kissed Him First

by JustinTimberlake



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 20:47:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20954666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustinTimberlake/pseuds/JustinTimberlake
Summary: Harry Winks wants to kiss a boy. Or two. Or three. Or five.Most of all though, he wants a boy to kiss him first.A.k.a. the one where Harry Winks has a crush on half of Spurs and England and just has so much love to give he doesn't know what to do with it all.





	5 Times Harry Winks Kissed Someone He Liked, and One Time They Kissed Him First

Harry never really thought about if he liked boys or not. It's just not something he ever thought about. Sure, he didn't really kiss loads of girls like his friends did, and sure he didn't really get the appeal of Mrs. Harrison's boobs like the rest of the boys in his school, but it's not as if he fancied Mr. Scott like all the girls did either. So he never really gave any of it much thought. 

Even in football, he didn't give it much thought. He would be in the changing rooms with fit, almost naked men all of the time, but it was just so normalised that he didn't feel weird about it. And the boys would comment sometimes on each other's lengths, so it's clearly normal to look. So it's fine, he's fine, and he doesn't really have to pay the niggling thought in the back of his mind any attention.

It's not until he meets Dele that the niggling thought becomes loud enough that Harry has to deal with it. 

Dele is just so  _ cool.  _ He's one of the popular kids, one of those boys Winks had always tried so so hard to be more like. He is like one of the kids in school that Harry would hang around and occasionally go to their parties, but that didn’t actually know his name.

But Dele is  _ nice,  _ and refers to him by name, and even once (when no one was looking) compliments his shoes. He keeps Harry on the end of his line by constantly giving him just enough compliments and jokey flirting to keep him hooked while with the other hand simultaneously letting Harry know that he's sort of out of his league. 

Harry can feel himself getting a crush on Dele, even though the feeling is a little foreign, and he doesn't feel as freaked out as he thought he would. It's sort of nice. It's a nice feeling, and even though it means he trails after Dele a lot more, following him everywhere and begging to make plans with him, Dele doesn't seem to mind. Dele even starts inviting him out on weekends, and on their first Under 18s Euros trip, Dele sits next to him on the plane with a grin and tells him that they're going to be roommates. They bluetooth mp3s to each other in the air, and Dele is surprised and impressed by Harry's music taste. Harry feels himself preening when Dele compliments him, and he can feel that excited little twist in his stomach when Dele tells him to "look cool" while they snap a selfie. 

He has the best time ever on the break, and he just feels like he and Dele are really  _ friends.  _ He's never felt this close to someone on the team before, always felt a bit at the fringe of the group. It's a lovely, warm feeling, knowing that he has someone he knows wants to hang out with him. 

Dele has brought some DVDs, and he is a bit of a troublemaker and has brought them some snacks too. Harry is in his element when he has a handful of brownies, not allowed to have them for so long, and Dele actually  _ giggles  _ at the sight of Harry stuffing four in at once, smiling at Dele with a big chocolatey grin. 

Harry goes to sit on his own bed, but Dele shakes his head.

"Movie night! Bring all your pillows over here. I'm not having you have all those brownies over there mate, I'll never get a look in!"

They watch American Pie 2, and Harry thinks it's one of the funniest movies he's ever watched, but then one scene interests him more than anything. 

Two girls onscreen say they will kiss if the two boys do too, and Dele turns to Harry and grins mischievously. 

"You would though, wouldn't you?"

Harry swallows and reigns ignorance.

"Would what?"

"You'd kiss your mate if it meant you could see them two going at each other."

Harry smiles nervously.

"Maybe. Depends which mate."

Dele raises his eyebrow, and suddenly he looks like that cool intimidating boy that Harry first pictured him to be, before he got to know him and realised it was a bit of a front.

"Me?"

Harry laughs, but Dele doesn't join in, looking at Harry with his eyebrow still raised. 

"Erm, I'm not - I- I would, I'd kiss, I-"

Dele rolls his eyes and turns back to the screen.

"It's really not a big deal, Winksy," Dele mutters off handedly. "Just mates being mates. Don't make it weird."

Harry stares silently for a few moments as he takes the words in. It doesn't have to be weird. 

_ Just mates being mates.  _

He tugs on Dele's arm until Dele finally looks up with a bit of irritation, and all the words he wanted to say just fall out of his mouth. He doesn't know what to say, so he decides to just  _ do.  _

He leans in and kisses Dele. Or, well, he tries to. He falters a little and ends up kissing the side of Dele's mouth. Then he leans in again and they try and kiss and their noses bump into each other awkwardly, then on the third try they finally get it right, but both of them break away giggling. 

"That was the most awkward kiss I've ever had in my life," Dele laughs, and Harry would feel hurt but he can't really deny it. 

He smiles down at his hands, not really sure how he's feeling. Yes, it was awkward, but there's just something about the way he's feeling that doesn't make sense. It doesn't add up. It wasn't a good kiss, it really wasn't. So why can't he stop thinking about it? 

Dele doesn't bring it up again, but Dele is quite gentle with Harry that night. He smiles at him a lot, he gives him a hug before bed, and he calls Harry his best mate. 

Harry goes to bed feeling warm, and it helps in quieting the confusion swirling around his head. He keeps telling himself  _ mates being mates  _ like a mantra, over and over again in his head.

It's normal. It's fine. They're friends. It's totally fine.

\---

A few years pass, and Dele ends up moving to Spurs as Harry is coming up, and even though Dele makes his own friends, whenever they hang out it's still nice. It's like hanging around with an old friend from childhood, and once he gets alone with Dele he feels like they're both those awkward seventeen year olds all over again. 

Harry's changed a lot since then, and he's being a bit more honest with himself recently. He's tried to date a couple of girls, and it's been fine but they didn't really give him a thrill or anything, so he's just stopped. He's not dating boys or anything, but he's self aware enough to know that he would rather be dating boys than girls. He doesn't want to dwell on that thought so much though, doesn't feel ready enough for it. So he just throws himself full throttle into football.

He wants to be the best he can possibly be, and he looks up to some of the older squad members with such deep admiration that it feels almost all-consuming.

Harry Kane is one of those players. He's a Spurs legend, already. And Harry just knows he's going to be one of the those players that will always make him proud to be a Spurs fan. And he gets to play at the same  _ time _ as him, on the same team. He is absolutely in awe of him. He watches him for hours from where he is sat on the bench patiently waiting for Pochettino to let him have some game time, but also just in training, and on game days when he didn't even make the bench. He is there, watching the team. Watching Kane.

He doesn't even mind not playing, he enjoys watching so much. Enjoys watching Kane - watching him pick out the perfect pass, watching him make the perfect run up to the goal, watching him finish with a sharpness and accuracy that Winks could only ever dream about achieving. It sometimes makes his mouth water a little, seeing how talented Kane is, and he just wants to be more like him so badly. He doesn’t even realise how desperate he looks when he starts following him around, even though he hears the sniggers sometimes of his teammates, especially Dele. 

He doesn't really care though. And Kane doesn't seem to either, he's friendly and nice and polite and offers to stay late at training to help Harry with his finishing technique, and afterwards looks at the time and says they better grab some food. Harry has to remind himself over and over again that it's not a date, even though Kane pays for them at the end and spends the dinner asking Harry about himself. Harry's heart flutters a bit when Kane tells him to get home safe and gives him a brief hug, and he goes home that night and watches Harry Kane highlights on YouTube. More than porn, this is the search history that he hopes no one ever sees. 

Staying late after training becomes a semi-regular thing, and every time afterwards Kane will take him to the little Italian near Hotspur Way and pay for his food. And every time Harry will go home and dreamily think about him, about how good he was in training, about how good he was in that match the other day, about how  _ lovely _ he is. He doesn't think he's in love with him. He doesn't even really think he fancies him. And he knows Kane is straight. But he can't help himself from just wanting  _ something.  _

It all comes to a head one early evening in the dressing room. Everyone else has left. It's just him and Harry Kane.

"You did amazing today, Winksy," Kane smiles, lifting his training top over his head and tossing it to the bench. Harry stares at the way Kane looks in the little under shirt and second guesses himself. Maybe he really  _ does  _ fancy Harry Kane.

Harry doesn't take his shirt off yet, frozen to the spot, and Kane looks at him a little oddly. 

"You okay, Winksy?" 

Kane comes over and feels his forehead, and Harry doesn't know why but that's the catalyst. 

He leans up onto his tiptoes and kisses Kane on the lips. It lasts maybe a second, and he pulls back to see Kane blinking at him, face completely blank. 

"Erm," Harry starts, panicking a little. 

Why did he have to do that?  _ Why did he do that?  _

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to see, like, how it felt you know? And you're so nice and kind and you know, uh, I'm sorry, you're straight, and that's cool, and it's fine and I'm not like, I'm not in love with you, I just, I've wanted to kiss for you for like a week, and uh I just wanted to get it out of my system? H? I'm sorry, I-"

Kane finally holds his hand up to save Harry from his misery.

"It's okay," Kane says quietly. There's a silence for a moment or two that Harry desperately wants to break before Kane speaks up again. "So, how did it feel? Kissing a guy?"

Harry blushes a little. He thinks he's been a little dishonest here. Kane thinks this is his first experiment kissing a boy, as if that whole escapade with Dele never happened. Although, that was four years ago, and he was almost a different person back then. So maybe he's not lying  _ too _ badly.

"Nice," Harry replies, then he laughs a little. "Maybe I should have warned you. You looked in shock."

Kane smiles, a little less awkwardly than before. He claps his hand on Harry's shoulder and looks him in the eyes 

"Any boy, girl, man or woman would be lucky to have you. You're sweet and talented and caring and you're so brave. I'm really glad that we are friends. And if there's absolutely anything I can do to ever help you, I'm here for you. Okay?"

Harry nods, feeling a bit emotional. 

"Also, if you're up for it, I was thinking we could switch it up tonight. Kate's going out so I'm looking after Ivy, do you want to come to mine for dinner? She would love you."

Harry's heart, already a little strained, almost bursts in his chest. He nods quickly, feeling the warmth spread through his insides. He knows beyond a doubt that Kane doesn't see him like that, and he knows he doesn't really mind. This is enough. It's more than enough. They're friends, real friends. 

This is enough. 

\---

The next time, it's different. It's different because Harry can't pretend it's anything else. It's not just friends, it's not admiration, it's a full blown crush. It's lust, it's love, it's everything. He can't sleep, he can't breathe, he can't do  _ anything _ without thinking about Eric Dier. 

First of all, he is the hottest man Winks has ever met. He's hot, he's so fucking smart, he's cultured, and he's just so...sturdy. He makes Harry feel like a delicate little ballerina just by standing next to him, never mind when he claps a big strong hand onto Harry’s shoulder, or crowds him into a wall with that  _ smirk  _ on his face. 

Eric is the first boy that Winks knows that he wants to do more than kiss. He lies awake at night sometimes, thinking about Eric touching him, about Eric fucking him. And then other nights, he lies awake texting Eric about stuff - not even sexual stuff, but Eric tells him random facts that absolutely fascinate him, then he patiently explains everything to him until Harry understands it. Harry actually starts to get worried that he might be falling for him. All he can think about is  _ EricDierEricDierEricDier.  _

Eric doesn't just text him and see him in training, either. He invites Harry to his house to play with his dogs, he takes Harry out to dinner at fancy restaurants, and one memorable day he takes Harry to the beach. 

And every one of their outings feels more and more like a date. One time, it's raining on their way out from the restaurant, and Eric holds Harry's hand to lead him to the car. Another time, Eric is sat next to him on the sofa and he brushes the backs of his fingers along Harry's cheek. 

"Eyelash," he murmurs, and Harry spends the rest of the evening trying to get his heart to stop beating into overdrive.

Eric sometimes looks at him with this  _ look _ on his face, like he knows what Harry wants. Like he wants it too. 

Eric flirts with him. 

He texts him telling him what he should wear on their not-dates, and when Harry turns up, dressed as instructed, Eric always gives him a once over with hungry eyes, ending with a gruff compliment. 

He texts Harry, he texts him constantly and sometimes what he texts him makes him blush bright red. He's so open and confident and he doesn't beat around the bush at all. He tells Harry sometimes, tells him he's feeling horny, tells Harry about the porn he's watching, how it could be improved, how the girl is boring, how he sometimes wonders if it would be more interesting if it was a boy. Harry tries with all his might not to let the words get to him, not to stick his hands in his boxers immediately, not to shyly ask Eric for a link to the video. But he can't. Eric sends him the link and they  _ talk _ about the porn they're watching, and Harry's imagining they're sat there side by side, touching themselves, touching  _ each other.  _

When it's over, Eric jokes and says that certainly livened up the boring old porn, and just as Harry is about to say something more, something deeper, Eric pulls away again and tells him they should get to sleep. It's only 9:23 PM. 

Harry feels like he's going crazy. 

He wants Eric so much it makes him dizzy, and Eric keeps giving him bits and pieces and then pulling back, and it's all too much and not enough all at the same time. 

One night, Eric invites himself round for dinner and Harry panics so much about not burning the chicken in the oven that he completely forgets about the vegetables that overcook so badly they're barely more than mush. And Eric loves his veggies. He orders the healthiest takeaway he can find instead, and turns the oven off.

At least, he thinks he does.

Eric comes in with a bottle of alcoholic free wine (he's better behaved than Dele is) and they chat and eat the takeaway and Harry is certain that they're going to do something more.

He wonders if he should have wore his good underwear. He doesn't even know which ones he's wearing. Fuck, he hopes it's not the Spiderman ones. He surreptitiously sneaks a glance at his waistband, pulling his joggers away to have a peek. He sighs in relief. Just standard black briefs. That's fine, that's sexy enough. He nods, satisfied, then looks back up to see Eric staring at him.

More specifically, Eric is staring at Harry's crotch. Harry feels a shiver run up his spine, and his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth as it goes dry. He is so, so, so desperate for Eric. He wants him so badly that it hurts. And Eric is  _ still _ staring at his crotch. Eric is the one who texted him first about the porn. Eric is the one who started inviting him out to dinners. Eric is  _ still staring.  _

Eric wants him too.

Harry swings his leg over Eric's and pushes him back into the sofa cushions. Eric finally glances up, glances up at Harry's face, blushing a little bit. Harry doesn't let him get the apologetic words out of his mouth before he's pressing their lips together.

Eric gasps into his mouth, apparently surprised, as if Harry hasn't been staring hungrily at Eric's lips for the past month like he was dying and they were a pool of water in a desert. 

Harry pulls back just to settle himself more carefully on Eric's lap and to kiss him again. Eric finally starts to respond, delicately placing his hands on Harry's hips and moving his lips, and Harry licks Eric's bottom lip and Eric makes this  _ noise _ that Harry can't get over. 

He wants to hear it again and again and again. 

He goes to lick Eric's lips again, but then there's a deafening noise that rings out through the house. He claps his hands over his ears, cringing, looking at Eric with wide eyes.

_ What the hell is going on? _

Eric lifts Harry off his lap and charges to the kitchen, throwing open the oven and coughing profusely at all of the smoke that comes out.

It turns out, Harry had left the chicken in the oven, and it was burning. Not only that, it was burning to an absolute crisp, and the corner of the baking parchment he had laid it on (a website told him to) had caught on fire. 

Eric deals with it, so sensibly and quickly, like always. He puts out the fire, he turns the oven off, he dismantles the smoke detector. He opens up all the windows, gets them both a glass of water, and strips the worst burned bits off the chicken, asking Harry if he can take the scraps home to his dogs. 

Harry nods dumbly, confused and in a bit of shock and also a little upset. Eric's leaving, he's giving Harry a one armed hug on the way out and he's saying "see you around, mate," as he closes the door behind him. 

_ Mate. _

Harry frowns as he stares at Eric's texts from the past week. He's not called him mate in weeks. He's been calling him stupid nicknames, babe and honey and sweetheart and even though they were jokey they made Harry's heart flutter.

But now it's mate. After they've kissed. When Harry finally thought he actually had a boyfriend, he kissed them and he ruined it.

He goes to bed that night and he lets himself cry just a little.

\---

Harry's next crush comes as a surprise to absolutely no one, including himself. He loves funny people, he loves someone who can make him laugh, he loves intelligent people who have that air about them that he knows they would look after him. 

It's no surprise, then, that his next crush is Jan Vertonghen.

It doesn't help that Jan is clearly such good friends with Eric, who Harry still dreams about sometimes. He gets a little jealous when he sees that they're on holiday together and he finds himself pouting and asking himself why he wasn't invited, then blushing imagining being on holiday with the pair of them. They'd have wine with their meals, they would go on cultural little trips out and be so fucking smart and grown up and cool. They'd hire a sailboat and Jan and Eric would both be in charge of it, their big strong arms unfurling the sail and steering them to their next beautiful destination, and all Harry would have to do is sit and look pretty. He would massage suncream into Eric's shoulders and he would pour Jan's drinks for him and they'd both make him feel so safe and he wouldn't have to worry about anything at all. He'd wear his tight shorts and maybe they would both admire him. Maybe Eric would kiss him again, maybe he'd push him down on the deck and make out with him. Maybe Jan would watch. Maybe Jan would join in. Maybe - 

"Ah, Winksy," Jan interrupts his fantasy as he strolls into the room, smiling with that special smile he always saves for Harry. He doesn't even say anything else, he goes off to get dressed, but throws the smile back over his shoulder one more time. He just wanted to make Harry aware of his presence. As if Harry isn't acutely aware of it all the time at the minute. As if Harry doesn't spend all of his waking moments waiting for one of his Jan smiles. 

He's always smiled like this for Harry, but he's started to do it more and more often. It used to be just when Harry laughed at his jokes, but now he smiles at him like this whenever he sees him. Saying that, even when it was just in response to Harry laughing at his jokes, this was still a regular occurrence. Mainly because Harry is utterly convinced that Jan Vertonghen is the funniest man alive. Harry’s never felt like this before, felt like his stomach was going to explode from laughter, felt like he could stop breathing just from laughing. At one point, later on in the evening when he’s smiling to himself thinking about Jan’s joke from earlier, he googles “can you die from laughing.” He’s actually deeply relieved that the answer is no. 

And Jan likes making Harry laugh, Harry can tell, because of Jan's little smile, because of how Jan seeks him out sometimes excitedly because he has just thought of a joke, even sometimes FaceTiming him from the next room over just because it can't wait. Harry likes it, likes the idea that he's pleasing Jan by laughing at his jokes, likes feeling that Jan wants him around. It makes him feel a bit powerful, knowing that someone as cool and funny and handsome and well-respected as Jan Vertonghen has taken a shine to him.

It's nice, and it just makes Harry want to hang out with him  _ all the time. _ So he does. He frowns at Kyle until Kyle switches seats on the plane with him so he can sit next to Jan, and even though Harry normally listens to music on long plane journeys, he doesn't even take his AirPods out of their case on their way to Singapore.

He is a little disappointed when they land.

"I thought this plane journey was meant to be long," He remarks, blinking stupidly, and Jan just gives him another one of those smiles. This time, it looks a bit different, and Jan gives him a look that Harry can't place for a moment until he remembers where he's seen a look like that before. It's the same face his mum makes at his newborn cousin. He doesn't really know what to make of that, but then Jan reaches out to ruffle his hair, muttering something in Belgian that Harry doesn't really make out, even though he's tried to learn some Belgian phrases just to surprise and impress Jan with. 

He decides to leave it for now, ignoring the butterflies swimming around in his gut as best as he can and trying to focus on their preseason tour. 

It's hard, though. The media team keep putting them both together, saying they have a "sweet, brotherly dynamic" which just makes Harry blush and Jan laugh, and Poch seems to be keen on playing them both together as well. He remarks at one point that he hopes Harry's youthful energy will rub off on Jan, and while Harry smiles a little, taking it as a light hearted remark, Jan's teeth are bared into a grimace and his shoulders are set in a hard line, and he simply nods, staring at the ground until Poch walks away. 

Harry realises there must be something deeper to that comment, but he can't think what. He decides then and there he can't stand to see Jan moody or upset, and he will do anything in his power to make sure that Jan doesn't look like that ever again around him. He waits for all of thirty seconds for the awkwardness to settle a little before he grins up at Jan and knocks him with his elbow. 

"First one to 'meg the other gets to choose where for dinner?"

Harry doesn't even think about how he's just invited Jan out for a fucking  _ date _ until Jan gives him another one of those newborn baby glances, then squeezes his cheeks roughly. 

"You are very cute Winkle. Too cute, sometimes."

Harry blushes and starts to stutter, taking it back, but then he feels the ball knock against his ankle as it passes between his legs. He stares down at it, then when he looks back up, Jan has one of his  _ Winksy _ smiles stretched out on his face.

"Meet me at seven o'clock yes? I will find somewhere for us to eat."

Harry just swallows and nods, not sure what to say, and Jan pinches his side, making Harry squeal, before he jogs away to practice with Toby. 

The dinner itself is nice, but it doesn't feel as much like a date as Harry was worried (and secretly half hoping) it would. It doesn't even feel as date-like as Harry's meals with Eric, and Harry has to focus extra hard on Jan's joke about Toby to try and make himself forget the feeling of Eric holding his hand and leading him out to his car. To forget the feeling of Eric's lips on his, kissing him back. Forget the feeling of Eric pulling away, forget the burning, stinging feeling of rejection.

He laughs extra hard at Jan's joke to make up for the fact he wasn't really paying attention, but Jan seems to notice something is up. He gives him the newborn baby look again, and for the first time ever, Harry feels a tiny spike of irritation at Jan. He's not a cute little baby. He's not a cute little baby that can't decide things for himself, can't kiss a guy without being "taken advantage of." He's a grown man and he can kiss who he likes. He feels his shoulders square up defensively and has to take a deep breath to relax himself. 

Jan considers him for a moment, watching Harry's internal struggle pensively. Eventually, Jan signals to the waitress for their bill, paying it before Harry can even think to reach for his wallet. Harry half-heartedly offers to split the bill, but Jan just rolls his eyes at him and steers him out of the restaurant, leaving a hefty tip and giving the pretty waitress a polite smile. Harry can't help but feel a bit smug. That's not one of  _ his _ smiles. No one gets them. Only him.

Jan walks Harry back to the hotel, and doesn't stop until they get to Harry's room. Harry has to take several steadying breaths. 

_ Is Jan going to sleep with me? Is he going to fuck me? Does he have lube? I wonder if I'm any good in bed - _

"This is you, no?"

Harry snaps his head up to meet Jan's eyes at the question and he nods.

He has to keep his lips tightly sealed, he knows if he doesn't he's just going to start babbling and he's going to embarrass himself. So he just nods and stares at Jan, holding his key card uselessly by his side.

Jan gives him another long, considering look, then he reaches his hand out carefully to tousle Harry's hair.

"You are very sweet, Winkle."

There it is again. 

The implication that he's a sweet overgrown baby, that he's a child, that he's cute and twee and adorable. He can't stand it. He's going to show Jan exactly how much of an adult he is.

He uses all the strength he possesses to shove Jan against the wall, but Jan goes very easily. Too easily. 

_ Because he thinks you're a baby.  _

Harry growls and grabs Jan's jumper in two handfuls with his fists. 

"I'm not a baby," he growls, and Jan's answering newborn look is the final straw. 

He leans in and all but attacks Jan's mouth with his own. He tries to keep it fierce, aggressive, possessive, but Jan strokes his hands down his side and Harry feels himself sag against Jan's torso despite his best efforts. And when Jan bites his lip softly, he knows that he whines, even if he would never admit it. 

When Jan pulls away, he most certainly whines, and Jan gives him a slow, soft smile. It's not his Winksy smile, and it's not the newborn one either. It's one Harry has never seen before, and that alone is enough to make him desperate enough to chase Jan's mouth again. 

Jan keeps it gentle and then pulls away again, stroking Harry's cheek with his thumb.

"You are sweet," Jan says, and Harry opens his mouth to interrupt but Jan shakes his head, silencing him. "You are cute. Sweet baby boy."

Harry doesn't feel the same irritation as before. He finds himself  _ wanting  _ to be Jan's sweet baby boy, and that is a whole other can of worms in itself. He doesn't even really want to examine that. He just swallows the lump in his throat and waits for Jan to go on.

"But I think you want someone else, no?"

Harry blinks in confusion, and Jan shakes his head.

"You will know. Soon, Winksy. You will know. He does as well." 

Harry has absolutely no idea what he means, but he takes the rejection in his stride. He's used to it by now, he thinks. And it's fine. It's nice enough that Jan kissed him anyway. Most people don't get even that with their crushes. That's what he tells himself for the next few weeks, whenever Jan gives him another one of those smiles, or whenever Eric texts him another fact about space. It's fine. He's moved on. 

He's fine.

\---

International breaks rolls around far too quickly, and Harry sometimes dreads it, dreads the feeling that he might not be called up, that it's going to throw him off his game at Spurs, but this time he's deeply excited. Mainly because Chilly texted him while he was in the car ride over and told him in no uncertain terms that they were having a movie night tonight, and that Harry is going to be his " _ roooomie  _ 😜."

The thing is, Ben Chilwell is another Dele - he’s cool and confident, and when you’re alone with him he doesn’t mind being silly. It’s slightly different from Dele though. Ben doesn’t bother about his image or anything, is more than happy to let the world know he’s hanging out with Harry Winks. He calls Harry cool, he bigs him up, he compliments him and makes  _ him _ feel like one of the cool kids too. He walks around shirtless, so confident in himself that he doesn’t see any problem with it, and he flirts with Harry as if it’s no big deal. 

Harry is obsessed with him. 

He tracks Ben as he moves around the room shirtless, and when Ben goes to take his shorts off too Harry doesn't even think to look away. Ben giggles and throws his shorts at Harry's face, calling him a perv, and Harry's bright red cheeks don't die down in the slightest when Ben comes over and jumps in bed with him in his boxers. "Movie night!" He explains, pulling his macbook out of his bag and resting it on their thighs. They watch the movie together, but Harry barely watches the screen, more focused on the heat where Ben's thigh is touching his, and the way Chilly's lips are glistening a bit from the oil on the popcorn. That's when he realises just how much he wants to kiss Ben Chilwell. After that, training becomes much harder, because Ben doesn't stop the flirting and the compliments, or the lifting Winks off his feet when they win, but now Harry feels it so much deeper. 

He keeps getting a little wistful and sad when he thinks about how he will have to go back to Spurs in just a few days and Ben will have to go back to Leicester, but when Ben catches him frowning he just skips over and tickles him. 

One time, Harry and Ben are walking through an empty corridor at St. George's Park, sneaking around before training, and Harry is hit with another wistful wave of sadness again.

"Chilly…" Harry starts with a frown, and Ben turns round and rolls his eyes, poking his cheek then pulling at it. Harry scrunches his face up and tries to get away, wanting to make a serious point about how they're really good friends and how much he's enjoyed this break, how nice Ben is, how much he likes him, how much he wants to  _ kiss  _ him. Ben won't let him, though, and moves from squeezing his cheeks to tickling his sides. 

Harry tries fruitlessly to get away, struggling against Ben's hold, but Ben just knocks Harry back into the wall and redoubled his efforts. 

"Stop it!" Harry gasps between giggles. "Pl-" 

Ben is merciless and is laughing himself as he crowds Harry into the wall, tickling him all the while, fingers brushing against his sides, his stomach, under his arms. 

All of a sudden, the touches get a little gentler. He's not giggling anymore, and neither is Ben. Ben's thumbs hook under Harry's shirt and brush his abdomen and when Harry gasps, Ben smirks. 

He leans in and Harry feels short on breath, staring at his lips. He thinks to himself:  _ finally.  _ The boy he has a crush on is going to kiss him and it's mutual and it's because the boy likes him  _ back _ and he's going to finally kiss Ben, finally find out if his lips are that shiny or if he wears lip balm. He's freaking out a little and is worrying about whether he's brushed his teeth recently enough, if Ben will be put off by the taste of orange juice, but then Ben stops in his tracks. Harry frowns, and it seems to make Ben's smirk widen. Ben makes a small gesture along the corridor, pulling away.

"We should probably-"

Harry doesn't even spare a second to think about it before he's grabbing Ben's shirt and pulling him towards him, and when his lips meet Ben's, Ben doesn't freeze in surprise or laugh against Harry's lips or pull away after a second to check if Harry's okay. He pulls Harry's hair to angle his head back so that he can kiss him better, more deeply, and Harry just melts against him. They make out for what feels like hours, and Ben feels him up and Harry can feel himself getting hard in his shorts when Ben squeezes his ass. His head is swimming, he's never kissed a boy like this, for this long, and all he can think of is all the other boys he's kissed, of any of them kissing him like this. Eric Dier feeling him up in the changing rooms, Jan brushing his tongue against Harry's in that hotel room, Dele pushing Harry against the headboard of the hotel bed posts like Ben is pushing him against the wall. He even briefly thinks of Harry Kane kissing him like this, properly, and he blushes bright red at the thought. Then Ben pulls his hair again and rocks his hips against his and he's suddenly back in the moment. He opens his eyes and looks at Ben and feels a desperate urge to do something else, do something  _ more, _ but then there's a loud noise from down the corridor and Ben backs away hastily. Harry quickly pulls his shirt down from where it was riding up and they both smile sheepishly at each other. 

Southgate comes through and hurries them along to breakfast, and Harry and Ben don't get a chance to speak for the next day. Harry's sharing with Madders and feels of all things a little guilty about it, and then they play the match and they win and it's nice even if Harry's not a part of it. He doesn't really manage to speak to Ben for the rest of the break, and his heart aches a little, but then he gets a text from Ben when he's in the car home.

_ Hope your called up next time bro  _ 😘😂  _ unfinished business  _ 😜  _ x _

Harry smiles and bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from grinning too widely. 

"Next time."

No one ever tells him there's going to be a next time. Maybe he's not as bad at kissing as he thought.

\---

Chilly is a good distraction. It's not like he's in love with him, and he's under absolutely no illusion that Chilly likes him like that either, he knows that what they have is just flirtation. But it's good, and it takes his mind off Eric and Jan. He doesn't know why their kisses affected him so bad, but he can feel himself physically pining for their attention whenever he's around them. It's infuriating, and he hates it. He hates himself for it. He's pathetic. 

Every time he so much as looks at either of them, he wants to ask them to kiss him again, ask why they didn't want him, ask them what's wrong with him. Ask them if he's a bad kisser. Plead with them to  _ like _ him. 

Eric invites him for another meal, and although it actually hurts to decline it, he does. He can't let himself get back into that routine of hopelessly falling in love with Eric while Eric clearly doesn't feel the same. Jan also offers to take him out, and his offer is a little more insistent, but Harry still declines with a frown. Jan still hasn't explained himself, won't tell Harry why he rejected him, with the flimsy excuse that Harry wanted someone else. Harry's convinced that Jan is the one who wants someone else, and this was just the easiest excuse. The easiest way out. 

He begins to convince himself of another theory which he hates and loves in equal measure. 

Jan and Eric are close. They're best friends at Spurs now, always going to each other's houses for dinner parties and going to the theatre and going for brunch. Harry watches them both out of the corner of his eye one day in the training room. They've both had a truly terrible game, and Harry thinks bitterly to himself that they should be acting more upset, because they certainly aren't acting upset in the slightest. They're laughing together, and they're shirtless, and Jan has his arm slung around Eric's neck. Eric is leaning very slightly into it as he shows Jan something on his phone, and Harry feels his blood boiling. 

They might be fucking, but this feels like they're  _ flaunting  _ it. They should be upset after that pisstake of a game, yet they're giggling together and flirting and they're probably going to go home and kiss and make out and more. They're laughing at something on Eric's phone. It's probably Harry. They're laughing at the texts Harry sends to Eric, laughing at how much he wants them.

In the back of his mind, Harry knows he's being ridiculous. He knows Eric and Jan would never do anything of the sort. They're kind and gentle and even if they don't want Harry like that, they do love him in their own way. But he doesn't want to listen to his voice of reason right now. He is so upset and jealous and angry and hurt, and he doesn't know why they would want each other but they wouldn't want him.

He can't help himself from being childish, and he throws his water bottle on the floor near them. They break apart as Eric reaches down to pick it up, and Harry storms over, grabbing it from Eric's hand.

"Sorry to interrupt," he spits with all the bitterness he can muster. "Don't want to get in the way."

He can almost feel the confusion emanating off the pair of them, but he doesn't look back as he stalks off. He drives home with the haze of anger clouding his vision, making him swear at other drivers when they cut him off and slam on his accelerator to overtake someone going at 69 mph on the motorway.

"Dickhead," he mutters, "It's fucking seventy  _ minimum _ when you're in the middle lane. Tosser."

The bad mood continues as he gets into his house, slamming the door behind him. He knows he has to cook, so he boils a pan of water and sticks some pasta in it, pulling out one of his little microwave pasta sauce pots from the fridge. 

He can hear Eric's admonishing tone in his mind's eye: "that's really not very good for you, you know," and that gives him some sort of smug satisfaction. He can do what he fucking likes. Whether Eric would disapprove or not.  _ Especially _ if Eric would disapprove. 

He's just about to sit down and eat when the doorbell rings. Irritated beyond belief, he slams his bowl down onto the table and gets up, muttering "who the fuck is that?" as he storms over to open the door. 

He throws open the door dramatically, about to tell whoever it is that  _ no,  _ he doesn't want to donate to their cause, but he stops in his tracks when he sees who is at the door.

"Winksy," Jan smiles, gently pushing on Harry's wrist so that he drops the door handle. With the newly created space, Jan shuffles past Harry into his living room, leaving Harry to stare at his other guest.

"I'd ask you if we can come in, but it seems like Jan's taken the decision out of your hands," Eric smiles wryly. 

He still waits for Harry to nod and step to the side, though, before he also walks through Harry's hallway. 

Eric eyes Harry's carbonara and looks like he wants to say something, and Harry can tell how much effort it takes for Eric not to comment on it. Instead, he sits on the other side of the sofa to Jan and pats the little space between them.

Part of Harry wants to sit on the armchair just to prove a point, but the much larger part of him wants to sit between them, so he gingerly takes his bowl over to the sofa and starts to eat while Jan and Eric watch him in contemplative silence.

He's so confused as to why they're here together, but he can't deny that he quite likes it. Even if they are just here to tell him off for being rude earlier. Surely they wouldn't come to his house for that though? They wouldn't come to his house just to scold him. Maybe they would...maybe they would come to Harry's house to discipline him. Maybe they'd take turns spanking him, before they both showed him how to be a good boy. He can feel himself blushing a deep red and he puts his half eaten bowl of pasta back down on the table and puts a pillow over his lap as casually as he can. 

Jan coughs, raising his eyebrow, and Eric and Jan share a silent conversation with shrugs and meaningful looks until Harry starts to feel the irritation rising again. His jaw tightens, and he clenched his fist around the pillow. He looks dead ahead, not letting himself ask  _ what _ , but then he feels a hand on top of his own, encouraging him to let go of the pillow.

"Hey," Eric says gently. "Sorry. We didn't mean to not include you."

Harry looks up at him frowning. He didn't think he was being that obvious, for starters, and Eric can't possibly know the deeper implications of what he is saying. He can't possibly know how much hope that gives Harry, like maybe he's going to be included in their relationship. 

"It's fine," he says stiffly, and Jan huffs a little laugh next to him. Harry doesn't even grace him with a look, knowing he will just get angry and upset, and most of all, will want to kiss him, so he just looks at Eric and lets himself want to kiss him instead. 

"Eric," Jan drawls, "What is taking so long? My plan is much better, no?"

At this, Harry finally looks at Jan.

"Plan? What pl-"

Eric interrupts him.

"Jan you can't just say that. We have to talk this out. We have to be careful, we have to have a discussion. We all have to be completely sure."

Jan rolls his eyes again. 

"You know very well that we are both completely sure about this one, Dier."

"What about him?" Eric hisses. "He might not be sure."

Harry feels like he has whiplash from craning his side from Eric to Jan with every cryptic remark. He has absolutely no clue what they're going on about, and it's just feeding into his irritation. They want to tell him about them being together, he's certain of it. They're here to gently let him down, but they don't even have the balls to do it. And they think he's stupid enough that he hasn't already guessed it. 

"Right," he snaps, "I'll just head upstairs while you two talk about whatever it is you want to talk about. And you can both kiss, fuck, whatever. I don't care."

He goes to stand up but Jan grabs his wrist harshly and pulls him back down. He lands a little awkwardly, across Jan's lap. As soon as he realises, he tries to move, but before he even knows what's happening, Jan's lips are on his. 

This time, he's the one in abject shock, and he's the one with a complete lack of response. 

Jan is the one to pull back, and Harry just blinks at him. There is silence for a moment, and Jan's confident smile falters briefly, but then Harry's brain catches up with him and he whines and chases Jan's mouth again. Jan deepens the kiss, carding his fingers through Harry's hair, then he pulls away again. Harry whines, wanting to get back to kissing, but Jan doesn't give in. Instead, Harry feels himself being turned to the side. He's not completely sure of what's happening, looking back at Jan with desperation, but then he feels another hand on his chin, tilting his head to the side, and then he sees a brief flash of Eric's face, having the time to think about how  _ close  _ he is before Eric kisses him.

Harry feels like he should be embarrassed at his body's reaction, but he can't spare a thought for it right now. He can barely even hold himself up. If Jan wasn't holding his sides, he's pretty sure he would have collapsed onto Eric, suddenly feeling like a plate of warm jelly as Eric parts his lips with his tongue. 

They kiss for what can only be a few seconds, but feels like forever. Then Eric pulls away, leaving Harry to look between the pair of them dumbly. He thinks he will actually cry if either of them walk away now. He doesn't know exactly what's happening, but if they're both just here to give him a kiss, then they're going to leave, he's worried that he's going to feel heartbroken, and won't be able to hide it from either of them. 

His struggle must show on his expression, because Eric kisses him on the cheek then looks behind him at Jan meaningfully until Jan leans forward and presses a kiss to his other cheek.

"Wh- what? What's going on?"

Eric smiles at him, and Jan's hands slide around his stomach so that he's hugging him from behind.

"We like you," Eric says simply, then he goes to kiss Harry, but Harry is the one who pulls back. He turns round to look at Jan.

"You like me? Both of you? Like… you  _ like _ me?"

Jan gives him the newborn baby look again and this time it doesn't irritate Harry in the slightest. On the contrary, it makes him feel warm and soft inside. 

"Yes, Winksy. We would like to be with you. You would like this as well?"

Harry nods slowly, still in a bit of disbelief, and he looks back at Eric equally slowly.

Eric is staring at him, looking so  _ fond _ that Harry can feel his own doe eyes come out in full force. He can't quite let himself believe it, believe that the two boys he actually really likes like him back. That they want to be with him. That he doesn't just get one of them, that he can get both of them. It feels too good to be true.

He pinches his arm, wondering if it's all a dream, and Eric's expression gets impossibly fonder, features crumpling as if he thinks Harry is so cute that he doesn't even know how to handle it. 

"You're so fucking cute," Eric says in that low throaty growl of his, and that's when Harry decides he can believe it. 

He leans in and kisses Eric, not worried that he will have to stop, or that Eric will pull away. He feels Jan's thumbs draw little circles on his stomach and he feels Eric tuck a stand of hair behind his ear, and he feels Eric's lips on his.

"You like me?" 

He asks between kisses, and Eric nods, not wanting to stop kissing Harry for any longer than he needs to, so Jan answers for him.

"We like you, pretty baby boy."

Harry preens and grins, pulling away from Eric so he can twist in Jan's grip and kiss him too.

They like him.

Harry smiles, doesn't know if he can stop smiling, doesn't know if he ever will. 

_ They like me. _

That's more than enough. It's everything. 


End file.
